


The Nervous Game

by lookingforatardis



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Interviews, M/M, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Touching, um... i literally dont know what to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 17:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13392684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/pseuds/lookingforatardis
Summary: "It’s okay to lose, Armie. I won’t judge, just say stop," he whispers before leaning back into his seat and letting his hand rest completely over me.Or, Armie tries to hold it together while Timmy plays the Nervous Game under the table in front of a packed room at a CMBYN panel interview.





	The Nervous Game

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have a thing for costars who date secretly making each other insane when the public isn't looking... Also, did yall ever play this game (yes, it's a real game)? It was literally the dumbest thing ever, you try to make someone uncomfortable and the first to crack loses but really when you play it's like everyone loses anyway lol. SO dumb, but such great inspiration.  
> Yall, I do not own these men, that would be ethically wrong. Also, this probably never happened. Actually, I'm sure it hasn't. Because I would have noticed. This is purely fiction blah blah blah please dont hate me armie/timmy if you ever find my fics it's all in good fictional fun i promise

The lights are brighter at this venue than they were last time, and it’s a hell of a lot fuller in here. I think the film is starting to pick up speed—it had been a while since we did any press or anything and this was more people than I remembered showing up. I try to focus on the question that's just been asked and start thinking of a way to answer it as Luca talks when I feel his hand on my knee. I glance down, staring at it, trying not to respond. I didn't want anyone filming the Q&A to wonder why I was smirking during Luca's thoughtful response about Aciman's work being essential to the production. He _would_ choose a serious question to start this game. That was just like him and his little "innocent" shtick, to sit there with a contemplative look on his face as he threatened to feel me up. That coy bastard. Thank god there was a table at this event or everyone would see.  

The other day, after a particularly repetitive press junket, we had gotten drunk and talked about other press things we had done where we had to find ways to entertain ourselves to stay sane. His experience was limited so he relied on my stories more than his own to carry on the conversation. Somehow it led to him joking about a game he used to play in middle school where you put your hand on someone's leg and move it up until the other person chickens out and tells you to stop. _The Nervous_ _Game_ , I think. I remember that he'd been insistent it was fun, that they would play it at cast parties in high school, too. He said next time it was boring in an interview, he was going to do that, _just you wait_. I laughed then, but as his hand glides up my leg, halting to squeeze halfway up my thigh, I don't really feel like laughing at all.

I swallow and look over at Michael as he takes over the question from Luca, trying to process his words instead of the way Timmy's hand slowly slides to the side of my leg to caress the inside of my thigh, his thin fingers barely touching the fabric of my jeans, testing my resolve, seeing if I'll play this stupid little game. Hesitant and just a little too curious, I glance in his direction, making eye contact. In an instant, his hand presses against my thigh, his thumb rubbing back and forth slowly. He smirks just slightly, a gleam in his eye that worries me. I try to hold his gaze without letting him see how I’m already questioning the choice to let him touch me in a full house. They move on to talk about the chemistry of the cast, a question I _definitely_ need to be alert for. He moves his hand back to the top of my thigh and I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding as his fingers spread to cover as much of my leg as possible, the muscles there still clenched in anticipation as his touch goes back to light, drawing a circle on my thigh with his fingertips. I have no idea what he's doing, this was _not_ part of the description of his game. This was, well this was flirting. It was teasing, it was goddamn verging on foreplay.

It registers in the back of my mind that I should push his hand away, that the smart choice was to still his actions. But if this was to be a game, I was _not_ going to lose. He wouldn't let me live it down, I was sure of it. I had to at least hold my own. I mean, the guy had his hand on my dick off and on for a solid hour that day in Italy, not to mention the day we were naked. I could win a stupid little game, it wasn’t like his touch was completely foreign. This was nothing. Though, now that I think of it, I'm not entirely sure how the game ends if I don't call chicken, if there's an endgame here. I think I know what might happen, but damn if I'm going to think about _that_ right now.

His palm presses back against my leg and he lets his hand drag up another slow inch, then two— “—perhaps we should ask the boys, though,” Luca says suddenly.

My head snaps around to his end of the table. I think back to the question and quickly throw out an answer, talking about how easy it was to get along with Timmy from the start. He moves his hand a fraction of an inch as I talk, squeezing my thigh hard when I say his name. The near continuous and agonizingly slow drag of his fingers pressing into my skin starts to have a heady affect and I close my statement, grabbing my glass of water and taking a long drink.

The thing was, Timmy and I had become oddly competitive lately. It didn't matter what it was, we just _had_ to beat each other. It was probably some ridiculous alpha male thing kicking in. It was pointless and I shouldn't care, especially when we weren't even playing for _anything,_ but I always wanted to win anyway _._ But he takes a deep breath next to me, squeezing my thigh as he lets the air out of his lungs, his nails digging just slightly in—and I think that winning this game might actually fucking kill me.

His palm was higher than I was comfortable with considering the audience and the fact that Michael just glanced over and saw his hand sliding up my leg. He looked up and made eye contact with me, his eyes narrowing in question. I shook my head just barely, hoping no one else could see. I watched as he hid a smirk, his eyes flicking to Timmy’s before turning and whispering to Luca. God bless, him, Luca didn’t look—he just smiled as he looked down at his hands, listening to the interviewer ask a particularly long leading question that results in nothing more than a short answer from Timmy. I sigh and gaze over the crowd, listening as they direct to audience questions.

Timmy's got a few inches before this starts to get really questionable. I wonder how he'd play it—if he'd just go for it or if he'd drag this out as long as humanly possible. If the goal was to get me to cave and make him stop, then it would make sense for him to make me miserable. I could feel my body reacting to his touch already and worried about what would happen in a few minutes when this stopped being so teasing and started being a bit more aggressive. That is, if he were to continue; he might not, he might just admit defeat and withdraw his hand, he might not continue at all. I wasn’t sure if I wanted that option any more than I wanted the other.

Slowly, _god_ so _fucking_ slowly, he drags his hand up higher, this time his nails scraping as he goes. I shift in my seat, knowing it reveals how my body is affected by this but being unable to stop myself from doing it, just like I can’t stop from adjusting my shirt or clenching my fist. Again, his hand sways to the side, pressing closer to the inside of my thigh, the back of his hand so fucking close to me that I can’t move. I suck in a sharp breath, clenching my jaw when he squeezes. "Thoughts, Armie?" His fingers drag along the seam of my jeans and I feel like I might black out. If he looked down he'd know I was hard, he might know anyway considering how close he was to me. I wondered if he was, too. " _Armie?"_

"Hmm?" I snap out of the moment and swallow, shifting again. "Sorry, what?" They laugh, everyone laughs, Timmy laughs. I feel their eyes on me as Timmy's thumb distracts my mind. I’m trying desperately to focus but I’m losing all sense of time and space with how far away his touch is and yet how close. God, he hadn’t touched me like this in a long time. I’d forgotten how intoxicating it was, how playful he was.

Luca smiles, his gaze flicking between us. He knows I’m struggling. He always seemed to know when one of us was distracting the other.

"How the experience has changed your approach to acting?" someone says, the interviewer I think. I can't really tell because his hand has moved to my hip and the heel of his palm is rubbing hard against the bone, his fingers splaying out before retracting into a fist and then repeating the action. How was no one noticing, someone had to be noticing, _fuck_. I mumble through an answer, trying desperately to keep my breathing steady when his hand moves over, just an inch, just enough for my vision to fade slightly. I blink a few times and finish my answer, then Timmy takes the question sounding cool as ever. I glance down out of curiosity and mild frustration at his ease and find some comfort in the fact that his other hand was gripping his own thigh tightly, as if to stop himself from palming himself. Though, it was a mystery to me how he could sound so normal when this felt like being burned alive. The question moves on to something for Michael about the famous monologue, and Timmy leans over to whisper in my ear, my body gravitating towards him of its own accord as his other hand covers the mic in front of him just in case. 

 _"You look wrecked,"_ he whispers, his hot breath ghosting my skin. _"I like it."_ With that, his hand moves so it's just over my dick, his fingers barely touching the fabric of my jeans. _"It’s okay to lose, Armie. I won’t judge, just say stop,"_ he whispers before leaning back into his seat and letting his hand rest completely over me, an open smirk on his lips for all to see. I resist the urge to moan, though my eyes do slip shut for just a moment. It registers in the back of my mind that my chest is rising and falling too fast, that anyone who could see would know that something was happening here and that I was, as Timmy put it, wrecked. Timmy gently squeezes and I lean forward, hands gripping my knees, head falling so my chin rests against my chest. _Fuck._ He'd never been this bold outside of that day in Crema. Hell, even in Crema it wasn’t like this; even when he had grabbed me it wasn’t like this, not even a little.

Michael leans over and puts his hand on my forearm. "Knock it off, guys," he whispers. "Do you _want_ them to see?" God, I hope the mics aren't strong enough to get any of this. Fuck, _fuck_.

Timmy squeezes one more time and withdraws gradually, his hand moving to go through his hair. I follow the movement with my eyes and swallow. I turn towards the audience and take a deep breath. The questions veer towards the two of us and we're forced to sit there, both of us hard as ever, answering things we've said a hundred times before.

It's the longest fucking hour of my life, and when it's finally over, Luca walks over to tell us to get a room next time. Timmy laughs quietly but looks guilty. He turns to me and says, "Hey, sorry about that. I don't know what happened…" He scratches the back of his neck and looks at me through his lashes.

"Well, what happened was, _I won_ ," I say, still half hard. His gaze flicks down and he blushes.

"That’s debatable," he smirks, meeting my eyes slowly. I roll my eyes with a careful smile as he bites his lip. We’re escorted off the stage and I wonder idly if there was somewhere I could go for some privacy. It isn’t until hours later that I realize his little game would have ramifications beyond the interview, that there were consequences for every action, that nothing was a secret for long.

**Author's Note:**

> This originally had an angsty as hell part after it, but i was nice today and cut it before that happened and gave it a few lines to close it off before the angst. I can finish and add the angst if you want, but I thought I'd give yall something that wasn't completely emotional lol


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